


Golden Hopes

by Hino



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, It also has a slight ship but it aint much, This is pre-Volfred disbanding the Nightwings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: “Brighton,” Oralech thought, the word clear in his mind.“Oralech,” answered the voice of someone he knew for two very different reasons.





	Golden Hopes

Oralech sat atop the Blackwagon as it rested at The Hulk of Ores, waiting for the Rite to start. His robes hung off him loosely, having transitioned from Nomad robes to Demon ones at Volfred’s request. He’d tried to argue otherwise, but his horns had started to come in, and the other changes would follow soon after.

He sat with his legs crossed and eyes closed, hands resting in his lap. It wasn’t as if Oralech could read, but he’d heard enough from the days with Volfred, and with his old Reader, to know that anyone could reach the Archjustice, with a bit of luck and skill. Taking a deep breath, he held it and let it out in one big sigh, forcing all his tension to go with it.

“Brighton,” he thought, the word clear in his mind.

“Oralech,” answered the voice of someone he knew for two very different reasons. Oralech opened his eyes, and found himself in a golden void. Tendrils of smoke came up from the ground around him, but it did nothing to obstruct the man standing before him; Archjustice Androbeles IX.

 

He was taller now. Whether it was because this was a dream, or because the Commonwealth had done something, the Archjustice stood taller than Oralech. Before, he was barely to his shoulder, now he loomed over him. In one hand was a staff, as tall as the Archjustice himself, and topped with a mallet, much like the one that had been used in court during his own sentencing ceremony.

In his other hand was a Book of Rites, which certainly confused the demon-to-be. They were supposed to be limited to the Downside, but there stood the Archjustice with a copy.

“Oh, this?” he asked, having caught Oralech’s gaze. “There’s only one copy in the Commonwealth, and it belongs to the Archjustice. To remind them of their duties as the Voice,” he added a moment later. 

Oralech simply nodded, finding himself without words. The Archjustice was standing before him, and underneath the mask, he knew it was Brighton. The man who he had not seen eye-to-eye with, but had saved and been saved by. He’d helped them become Enlightened, and they had paid him back by Liberating him. Now though, he was stabbing them in the back by dictating the Rites, tormenting them, keeping them in this loop. “Did you know?”

The Archjustice tilted his head. “Did I know?” His tone was questioning, not entirely picking up on what Oralech had meant.

“Did you know you would control the Rites? Control our chances of being free?” Oralech crossed his arms, obviously displeased, yet the Archjustice merely laughed, voice echoing in the strange golden void. “What’s so funny?”

“You act as if the stars are at my whim,” the Archjustice replied. “Yet, I’m sure the one with the most influence would be our beloved Minstrel. He perhaps would have better chance having the stars sway in your favour.”

Oralech raised an eyebrow, and the Archjustice took it as a prompt to continue. “I can do nothing but observe the Rites. They are not mine to control, or to influence. The outcomes are merely yours, and not my, nor the wills of the Scribes, can change that.”

There was skepticism in Oralech’s gaze, and the Archjustice sighed. The Book of Rites remained in place as he let go of it, removing his mask. Brighton wore a melancholy smile, and it caused the Exile to pause. “I thought I could help you all.”

 

For a moment there was silence. Oralech committed Brighton’s face to his memory, trying to remember every little scar the Downside gave him, every little freckle or discolouration, anything that stood out. 

“I hope you can help us,” Oralech grumbled, feeling the space around them rippling. The Stars were soon to align, and this would not last much longer. “Our newest member. He has a Plan. A way to take things down from the inside. Maybe you can help us!”

A look crosses Brighton’s face that Oralech can’t explain. It’s as if someone has entered the room, and spoken something that does not sit well with the Archjustice. “Perhaps,” he mumbles softly, approaching the Exile. Standing toe to toe, Brighton really does tower over Oralech, but he bends down to place a kiss to the Demon-to-be’s forehead. “I truly hope so.”

 

And like that, Oralech found himself among the cold sea breeze. It made him shiver, and he rubbed at his arms in some attempt to chase away the chill. Above, the Stars began to shine, and Volfred called him down towards the field with a smile.

“Coming,” he answered, slipping his mask on as he stepped onto the wooden deck of the lost ship. As he took his place and felt his Aura spread, Volfred tensed, most likely hearing the words of the Archjustice. He seemed uneasy, but Oralech merely gave the Sap a thumbs up, receiving one in return a moment later.

 

In The Commonwealth, the Archjustice sat quietly, watching the Rites play out through the Celestial Orb, Book of Rites resting in his lap. 

“I wish I could help you,” he mumbled ever so softly, lest the other Commonwealth Nobles who loomed in the room hear him. “I’m sorry, Oralech.”

“I truly hoped I could.”


End file.
